


Brief Encounter

by darkuponlight



Category: Music RPF, The Beatles
Genre: 6 year old Paul, 8 year old John, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkuponlight/pseuds/darkuponlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John blinked in surprise. Nobody answered him back! One glare was enough to send any potential enemy crying to their mother. Yet this boy was completely unafraid of him. He even looked a little annoyed...But he wouldn't be beaten. He couldn't allow it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brief Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. Well, it's been a long time since I wrote a John and Paul fic, the last one was so horrible I had to delete it, so here I am giving it another try. It's just a little AU idea of mine about what would have happened had John and Paul met as children. It’s pretty simple and fluffy stuff. John’s fun and mischievous and Paul’s cute and stubborn. Also, Paul and Mike are many years apart in this fic, seeing as how Paul is six years old here and Mary’s pregnant with Mike. Creative license.

Liverpool, 1948-

 

"John, don't pick that up. If you break it-"

John frowned and placed the piece of pottery back down on the market stall. "It's boring, anyway." he retorted. "And why do we have to come here? You said it would be exciting!" he added accusingly.

"It is," Mimi replied, "Just a little dull today, that's all” she argued.

She took his hand and led him away from the table and back into the heaving throng of market-goers. Almost immediately, he was back at the table, and she gave an exasperated sigh. Even so, her surly nephew could not ruin today; the weekly market was one the few things that Mimi looked forward to, and so she often dragged John along to this place. She was brought out of her thoughts by the sound of breaking glass. She turned to see an enraged shopkeeper glaring down at her 8 year old nephew, who had finally managed to break something.

"John!" she hissed, and he looked up at her sheepishly.

"Don't blame me! I didn't do it!" he cried.

"Oh? It just jumped out of your hands, did it?" she muttered, grudgingly taking out her purse and handing a few coins to the shopkeeper. She took him by the hand and led him away from the stall.

"John," she said, "how many times do I have to explain to you the value of things? The last thing I need is you breaking expensive things!"

"It slipped" he muttered.

Mimi shook her head and led him over to another stall, where a selection of fine materials were laid out and being examined by various customers.

"Don't go _accidentally_ ripping them, or _accidentally_ setting them on fire, will you?" she asked.

He pointedly ignored that comment and instead set about looking for something to keep himself entertained with. As much as he loved his aunt, market days bored him to the point of tears! He kicked at the grass for a while, then gazed over at the clowns performing for a host of children and shuddered. No way. Clowns frightened him. He cast a glance at the man running the pottery store, and realized he ought to stay away from there. Then the boy caught his eye.

He was very young, only about five or six years old, and although he had on very smart clothes, not as nice as his of course, he gained a certain amount of satisfaction from the fact that he had mud all over them. His features were very delicate and soft at this early stage of life, and he was sitting, staring at the ground, poking something with a stick every so often. John walked closer. The boy's face was set off by thick locks of pure black hair, some of which fell into his unusually large eyes, which were gazing intently at something in the dirt. His curiosity aroused by the other boy's apparent fascination, John went over to him to see what was so interesting. He was a little disappointed to see that he was watching nothing more fascinating than a beetle trying to scramble out of a hole it had fallen into.

"What are you doing?" he asked loudly, so that the boy jumped.

"Hush," said the younger child, without looking up, "I'm watching this bug. See, it keeps trying to get out of this little ditch."

"Then let it out!"

"I wouldn't be able to watch it, then."

"But _why_ do you want to watch it?" asked John, genuinely intrigued. "It's boring"

"Ssh."

"So," John chattered, "what's your name? I bet it's not as wonderful as mine. Want to know what my name is?"

"Sssshhh!"

"Answer me!" he snapped. For some reason, he wanted to command this child's attention. He was too annoying for his own good. The boy looked up for a moment, gave him a contemptuous glare, then resumed watching the insect.

That did it. If there was one thing John couldn't stand, it was being ignored. He stamped on the beetle. He felt rather bad about that; it hadn't done anything wrong, but the look of rage on the other boy's face convinced him it had been worth it.

"Why did you DO that?!" he gasped.

"Because I wanted to. I do anything I want." said John nonchalantly. He watched as the other boy got up, seemingly ready to fight. With a grin, he walked over to him, towering over him, at least twice his height at this budding stage in his life.

"And _what_ are you going to do about it, little boy?" he asked threateningly. He was enjoying this immensely. The other boy watched him for a moment, torn between his anger and the knowledge that John was more than likely able to beat him up, before scowling and walking away.

John sighed. He had been looking forward to a fight, just to see his reaction, like the green rage that overcame him when he had stamped on the beetle. It had been wonderful! Besides, he reasoned, the snooty boy had deserved it. All he had wanted to do was talk! Grinning, he made his way back to Mimi. She was talking to the man in charge of the market stall, who was trying to cajole her into buying a carpet.

"But, miss, it’s so beautiful!" he reasoned, "It would look so good in your home, surely.”

"I don't think so." said Mimi shortly.

A pregnant woman, around the same age as Mimi, with fine black hair and delicate features, looked up.

"Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but is that a real fur coat? It’s absolutely gorgeous" she asked.

"Apparently so." said Mimi.

"May I ask where you bought it?" the woman went on, "my name is Mary, Mary McCartney..."

"Mimi Smith." she cut in, adopting a rather bored tone. “And I can’t quite remember where I got it. It was a gift.”

"Well," the other woman blustered, "what a lovely gift it was. I don’t have many friends you see, and between moving neighborhoods, working at the hospital, and taking care of my family, I hardly have any time like this for myself. Although I am shopping for the new home, so I suppose it’s for the family. We also just bought a family cat, so I'm trying to pick out new fabrics and It's amazing how cheap-"

"A cat?" asked Mimi, cutting her off. "What kind?"

"Siamese. I’m not too fond of them myself but my son was pleading for a pet and my husband insisted on his behalf. He does tend to indulge our son quite a bit, but a cat is the better option than say, a dog. Less work. I said, well, don’t expect me to clean up after it..."

"Hm, indeed.." said Mimi

"Mimi," John cut in suddenly, "I'm bored!"

"Oh, so this must be your son!" said Mary.

"Almost. My nephew" replied Mimi smoothly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I never noticed him," she replied, "he's lovely, isn't he? Got a look of you there, I see."

"No, I haven't!" snapped John.

Mary laughed. "Well, he's very feisty. My son's a little on the spirited side himself, but he's very loving. He can't wait for the baby to arrive." she said, patting her stomach.

"I thought you were just very fat." said John.

The smile died on Mary's lips, but then she cast about, apparently searching for someone.

"I can't imagine where he's got to...he's always wandering off. Paul, where are you now?" she cried.

As if on cue, John's new found enemy, the young boy, came running over. John took in his tousled black hair, rounded hazel eyes and delicate body once more. He looked altogether too timid and pretty to enjoy the escapades John and his friends got into, but his muddy clothes and relaxed composure proved otherwise.

"Yes, mum?" he asked.

"What have you done to your clothes?!" she gasped, brushing him down.

"I was just playing..." he said, then looked up at Mimi. "Good afternoon, miss." he said politely.

Mimi’s lips twitched in a bit of a smile. "Quite the little charmer." she said.

John scowled.

"Honestly, I can't understand him," said Mary. "Impeccable manners, but so scruffy. He just doesn't seem to _care_ about his clothes!-"

"That'll pass" Mimi said with a wave of her hand, "he's only a child. Now, as I was saying…”

As the two women became immersed in their conversation once more, Paul stood next to his mother, hiding his face in her skirt shyly. John pulled it away from him impatiently and scowled.

"So, at least I know your stupid name now. I was right, mine _is_ better. And you're moving houses?"

The other boy nodded.

"Don't you like you’re old home?"

He shrugged.

"How come your eyes are big like a baby’s?"

Paul merely glared at him for that one.

"Don't you even speak?" he mocked.

The younger boy didn't even reply.

"Are you stupid or something?!" John exploded.

Mimi cuffed him across the ear quickly. “John, don't be so obnoxious!"

"Well, he started it," he grumbled, rubbing his ear ruefully. He glared at the other boy, who gave him the most astonished gaze.

"You did." he all but muttered. But there was a quiet anger there, a profound sense of subtle malice even at this tender age.

John blinked in surprise. _Nobody_ answered him back! One glare was enough to send any potential enemy crying to their mother. Yet this boy was completely unafraid of him. He even looked a little annoyed.

"No, you did, you little-" he hissed.

" _You_ did."

They faced off. As the two women talked, the children glared at each other. John was taken aback by the depths of that gaze, by the sharp contrast of thick black eyelashes to a glittering hazel of color. But he wouldn't be beaten. He couldn't allow it. 

Time stood still for a few moments. John and Paul. Two children, whose destines were linked, and of course, they didn't know it. Soon to be locked together for all their life, in love, in hate, bearing such strong feelings for each other that it would be agony, and always, always, struggling to understand the other.

John, who would make such dreadful mistakes out of desperation to protect his heart. Who would come to learn that he loved him so completely, and almost when it was too late. Paul, who would be deeply hurt by his various actions, but sustained by his fiery character all the same. And that was their moment. It ended.

Mimi nodded. "Well, a good day to you, we’ll be heading off now."

"Yes, it’s about time we make our way home, too"

"Come on, John," said Mimi, turning to her nephew, "It's time we were getting home. Uncle George is waiting"

"But Mimi," said John, looking up, "I'm having a staring out contest!"

Before she could reply, the younger child gave him a disdainful look. "You're stupid!" he announced.

"Paul!" snapped his mother, "don't be so rude!" She turned to Mimi. "It was nice chatting with you. So long." she said, taking her son's hand and leading him away.

"I hope I _never_ see that stupid boy again!" John announced loudly. Paul turned, and John stuck his tongue out at him. Mimi tutted and led him towards the car.

"John," she scolded him as he clambered onto the seat next to her, "you have to learn some manners!"

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"You just do!" she snapped.

"I can't let people know what I think?" he reasoned.

Mimi fixed him with one of her infamous stares.

"Believe me, love, it's better that way."

"Well, it's true," he said stubbornly, "I _did_ hate him. He was boring."

"So boring that you wanted to fight him?"

"And small."

"He's younger than you are"

"And ugly."

Mimi laughed. "Oh, come, now. Hardly ugly. He was quite pretty, actually. He'll be quite the looker when he grows up."

"Not as handsome as me, though, right?"

She smiled and ran her hand through his auburn locks. "Of course not."

"So there. I can say he's ugly, then."

"I don't know why you're so annoyed, anyway. I doubt you’ll ever see him again. He and his mother seemed the lower sort."  

They settled into a comfortable silence as his aunt stared off, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

John settled down against her once more, listening to the comforting sound of the passing cars as they headed home. He was content, for the time being at least, to indulge in his day dreams. Yes, life was good for now. It didn't seem so wonderful when the people in it were fat old ladies and timid large eyed children. He had forgotten the boy's name already. He snorted as he thought about this, his own sticky and snotty little cousins were more exciting, and that was saying something.

Whatever could be so interesting about a boy like that?


End file.
